


Before France, there used to be Eponine

by writer442



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 15:38:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12302226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writer442/pseuds/writer442
Summary: Enjolras meets Eponine before his Revolution and before she meets with Marius. Story goes with them till their bitter end. Mostly inspired by the musical movie from 2012





	Before France, there used to be Eponine

In the dark shadows of Paris something looking similar to a small raggedy-clothed girl run through an alley with red lanterns. Her steps were cracking into the snow and she left behind a trace. She looked petrified. She was holding her warm scarf around her neck and shoulders. Hands were shaken, tears appeared on her face. Her long brows were braided by streams of wind.

Suddenly she stopped. At that moment she looked down to her hands that were clutching the cloth. There was no letter. Without the letter she could not return. She looked back into an aisle of fallen women. She had to go back, back into the dark corner of that rue. She might stumble upon that man again. She shivered. He must have left already. She hoped so.

In the light of red lanterns that hung in the windows the snow looked like blood. She was freezing but still she was sweating. Afraid of what she might endure here again, she walked by the side of street, almost cuddling to building’s walls.

That was the spot where she met him. She recognized it immediately. Here, the man assaulted her. Drunk and wild. He had mistaken her for another working lady. Why wouldn't he? Even though she looked young, she already had the body of woman and no respectable young lady would be walking those streets alone in the night. But ‘no’ should mean the same no matter who has spoken.

She feared what she is going to find in the dark aisle where the man took her when she fought back. He tossed some coin on the ground and forced himself on her. She screamed and the hero appeared. Not until now she realized that truly some stranger saved her. When the unknown hero stood for her, the drunken man attacked him. And she has seen enough fights to know who was going to win. So she ran. She was always quick and fast. She was running faster than any of her siblings. She didn't want to be the winner’s price.

But what if she was wrong? What if the young saver would win… Then who knows what he would want for his aid?

She peaked into the aisle. There was a body lying in the snow. Was that blood under him or was the light just cruelly playing her? With a care she approached the body. By the clothing she knew that wasn't her assaulter. She turned him on his back. It was a gentleman! He was clean, shaved and had a nice surcoat from a quite expensive cloth. She was astonished. She would never believe that some of the Gentry would stand for her. For her! A beggar from street, a raggedy and dirty girl!

“Oh, Monsieur!” she whispered. He was bleeding from nose and his lower thick lip. Despite that he was handsome. He looked like the angels she saw on paintings in church. His eyelids shudder.

“Monsieur! Monsieur!” she called to him. If her father would be here, he would have taken the advantage of this situation. He would go through his pockets and took everything that would seem to be worth of something. And he would spank her for not helping. But how could she? That was a man, a gentleman, who risked himself to save her. At least that was something she wanted to believe. Through the years of desperation, of poverty and hunger it was almost divine to think that there could be such men who would rush into a rescue.

“Monsieur?”

He opened his eyes. They were bright blue. They could appear cold and distinguished but not for her. They were accompanied with a warm smile. She could scarcely remember if somebody ever gave her such smile. Maybe when she was a little girl, happy with her family, Azelma or one her parents could smile like this at her. But that seemed to be part of a different life.

"Monsieur? Are you well?" she asked. He looked departed from reality. He watched here, smiling and his cold eyes were warm and bright. She reached for a piece of her own clothing and with it she wiped the blood from his face. That was the moment when he realized he was on the ground and bleeding. He rose up. She tried to stop him. His vision blurred and he almost lost his ground again. But she caught him in the last moment. Surprised how that small young lady could possess such strength, he grinned.

"Excuse me, mademoiselle. It appears...," again his legs betrayed them.

"Monsieur, ye have to go easy," she told him. He looked at her. He wasn't smiling anymore. His face almost appeared stoic, without any emotion and his eyes turn to be truly cold. He resembled an old statue, beautiful but distant in emotions. Wasn't there a statute of an ancient God of war? Didn't she hear scholars talked about such thing? She never saw it, but she imagined it would look like him.

"What is your name?" he asked. His voice lost its playful tone, even the lightness with which he spoke earlier was gone. Now his voice was full of frustration and demand.

"Eponine," answered with pride. Her parents named her after an ancient Roman queen who died for her husband whom she truly loved. And some part of her was proud to be named after an ancient queen.

"Eponine," his voice carried some of the softness he was masterly trying to hide from the world.

"That's my name," she smiled at him.

At that moment he was puzzled by himself and by the creature that was standing by his side. She was wearing rugs that could hardly keep her warm. Her hair was not brooded, her skin dirty. Was she living here? But then why was she screaming? Baffled he looked down. On the snow there laid a silver coin. She was a working lady and he was a fool! Caught in the ideal of past romantic era, of heroic deeds and ancient stories... He was like a child. He should have kept going and let the man and woman finished their agreed business.

"Ye saved me, Monsieur," she spoke. It was a woman's voice hardened with alcohol. It might have been an angelic sound - he taught with a surprising sorrow.

"Saved you?" asked bewildered.

"I ain't from here, Monsieur. An unfortunate business brought me here. A delivery, Monsieur. Which I have to yet finish."

"Delivery? In this part? To whom?"

"Certain gentleman who's I missed at home."

"You followed him?"

"It's urgent plea. Lives are at stakes, Monsieur."

"Enjolras," announced his name, slowly realizing his aid was welcome at least by one part and he did truly helped and saved this poor creature. But she was determined to continue on this journey through those dangerous streets alone. The night was still you young. They both could hear merry voices of men admired by women for some money. Enjolras knew that the previous assaulter would not been the last.

"Could you not wait till dawn?" he asked.

"And sleep on the street?" she frowned. "I cannot return until the delivery is done."

"You are stubborn."

"Relentless."

Again with her smile! She was pretty. Well, the beauty was somehow hidden in her somewhere. Under the ragged clothes, under the dirty skin and under the terrible smell of street was a young beautiful woman who was forced to age by unfortunate circumstances.

"Then where we are heading?" he asked with a deep sigh.

"We, Monsieur?" asked suspiciously. 

"Although my first attempt to aid you was not as successful as I imagined, it would be a pure madness to let you venture on without an escort,” he explained himself. She incredulously glanced at him. He was barely standing. He must have hurt his head during his fall to ground or the attacker stroked him harder then she presumed.

But she did not question his ability, more his motivation.

"Why ye care?" she asked terrified what his good manners would cost her.

"Who wouldn't care?" he was genuinely surprised by her question. Because he was not from her world, where for kindness was dearly paid.

"Many folks," she assured him. "At least, any folks here. And ye don't care if we starve. Ye don't care whether we live or die."

She talked about his class, about the Gentry and people who had wealth and didn't care about the lowest of Parisians.

"I do care equally," he responded. He was kind and charming and Eponine wanted to believe such man could exists.

Enjolras found himself stroke by the cruel hand of destiny. He was a student who admired heroes of history, who admired the beauty of his country and who could see that that the future must surely hold something better for people of France. Although at that time he wasn't sure what. He didn't agree with the old generation, he was not fancy of the last emperor and was hoping that something like republic could rise again. Ha has seen struggle at streets and poverty and hunger and he knew something needs to change. But a little he knew how much he alone must be changed in order to endure what was inevitable.

With a little support from Eponine he was able to walk. He went a few steps by himself and then he bent to ground. Meanwhile Eponine has found a letter she dropped during her fight over hers own body. Enjolras picked a coin from the ground. He looked up to Eponine and met with her disgust look.

“Let it lay there, Monsieur Enjolras,” she spoke and for the first time she pronounced his name.

“You could make a good use of this,” pointed the obvious. She shrugged her head. She was used to take whatever she liked, never caring to whom those things belonged, but this single coin which could feed her or warm her and her family made her feel dirtier and defeated. Of those feelings she had no need.

Enjolras nodded but he did not place the coin back to snow. Instead he took it. Without any comment on his action, he rose up again.

“Lead the way, Eponine,” urged her.

Young gentleman walked with her to one of the brothels in the street. Eponine noticed how tense Enjolras appeared when they came closer to open establishment. What Eponine mistaken for blush of an experienced youth was in fact a doubt. Suddenly he was not so sure about girl’s honesty and her makes of living. But still he was a man of his word. They walked in together. Eponine quickly found whoever she was looking for and delivered her letter. Unfortunately Enjolras recognized the old patron of three barely dressed young women and was recognized in return. M. T____ had the reputation of Godly man who harshly condemned every aspect of human life that could lead to a sin. Seeing young Enjolras before himself in a company of a girl whom she met before (and therefore knew she was only a beggar) he shamefully looked at the letter.

“M. Enjolras, I would not expect to meet you here.”

“Nor would I, M. T____.”

“I was… only just… explaining to these God’s creatures that there is still a hope for them… for them to reconcile with Christ… to return to a good Godly life.”

Lack of his own clothing suggested otherwise. Enjolras turned his face in disgust of that man’s hypocrisy.

“You've got your latter, Monsieur, and we’ll be on our way.”

“Oh, sure… the latter,” he nervously looked at the folded piece of paper. Then he looked at Enjolras. “Maybe,” he spoke quietly to Enjolras, “our meeting here could be forgotten if I were to applied to those in need,” he tapped the paper.

Eponine smiled a little when she understood what was M. T____ truly talking about. In sudden burst of enthusiasm she reached for Enjolras’s arm and she gripped him.

Enjolras did not want to think how that made him feel as much as he did not want to think how much pleased he was when Eponine spoke his name.

He barely understood what kind of agreement M.T____ had with Eponine’s family but it appeared to him that he could once again prove himself useful to her.

“This generous gift would certainly help save your soul more than a fat contribution to a holy church. Not to mention the poor people’s lives you’ll save during your redemption.”

“Then agreed,” he smiled contentedly. “Girl, come to me tomorrow. Bring your father with you, so I know my money is not spent in vain!”

Next moment he returned to his company he had yet to redeem.

Young couple immediately left the house.

Eponine looked at Enjolras.

“Monsieur, ye saved me once more!” she blurted out once they were again in the cold and dark aisle. “And I did nothing but ruined yer night here!”

“You didn't ruin anything. I was not here to…”

“Not here to guard all of the fallen women and come to rescue whenever it’s needed?”

She made him smile.

“My friend,” he explained with sudden ease, “was in a nearby establishment. I hoped to keep him from making a terrible mistake. But Grantaire,” he sighed in disappointment, “will not listen to me.”

“So ye are the saviour,” she smiled at him. He scoffed.

“A terrible one, if any.”

“That ain't true. For what ye did, my family and I will be fed for a month!” she exhaled. So that was why he sacrificed his dignity and lower himself to the level of men he despite. Was she worth it? 

“And before… I didn't even thank ye proper.”

“No need for that. It was a sorry attempt to help.”

“But it worked, Monsieur!”

She was worth it.

“I will never be able to repay ye.”

“Good. At least you won’t try,” for him it was closed matter. She laughed.

“Of course I try, M. Enjolras! Even beggars have their honour.”

She was proud. Many people would pity her and her sorry life but she was able to remain her own dignity in some way and be proud of herself. How long did he know her? An hour? Maybe less? And yet she won his admiration.

“No doubt on that matter,” he nodded. “Actually there is one thing you could do for me.”

Eponine shivered a little. What will be his price?

“You could remain silent about my aid tonight.”

“Remain silent, Monsieur?”

“Don’t tell you father. Don’t tell anybody.”

“But why, Monsieur?” she laughed. “My father would know how to repay ye proper.”

“And that’s the reason. For me it is enough to know that you will try. I have no wish for more people trying to repay me for something that is not needed.”

She smiled at him. That reaction surprised him.

“Ye are humble, Monsieur,” she commented shortly.

“Not humble. People should not congrats me for being beaten and for walking into the brothel.”

“Today ye were my guarding angel, Monsieur Enjolras.”

He blushed. Luckily she didn't notice in the dark night.

“Will you find your way home, Eponine?” he asked.

“Are ye going to let me here alone?” she teased him. “Thinking your guardian duty is over?”

Again he smiled.

“Milady,” he offered her arm.

“Oh, don’t mock me, Monsieur,” she pleaded him. “I might not look like much but I ain't stupid. I can read. I can write. I went to opera. I have seen many plays, comedies and tragedies. I can even play an instrument!”

“I didn't doubt your intelligence or your skills. I merely…”

“Well, I actually might not know how to play an instrument. But I can sing!” she boasted again.

Amused by her spectacle he encouraged her: “I would like to hear a song.”

She smiled and took a first step. She jumped a little and holding her skirt she twirled. While doing so she was crooning some melody. Looking down she started to sing. From the beginning it was a quite sound, he barely understood, but with time passing by her voice gained on strength. It wasn't a song which he would hear in any salon or that would be sung in the opera house but he liked it. It was simple song and her voice was surprisingly pleasant to hear. He followed her.

They were far beyond the red street when she stopped singing. They were crossing the river and she stopped on the bridge, turning to him with pleased smile.

“See, Monsieur? I told ye I could sing!” she flaunted.

“There was no doubt,” he smiled at her. His admiration only heightened. She leaned on banisters and looked down to passing water. Her face was frowned as she was thinking about something.

“Did ye ever think about drowning?” she asked him lost in her own thoughts.

“No.”

“Why would ye?” she realized. “A week ago we lived under the bridge and the nights were so cold. And I thought how pleasant it would be just to jump to water. I heard that ye are cold at first but then ye feel warm. Is it true, monsieur?”

“I don’t know. It is not a good way to die. Is the life so unbearable for you?”

“Nay. Sometimes it’s good. It’d be better if we have place to stay. Father’s friend took us in but it’s not a good place.”

Enjolras wanted to help.

“I know a place, Eponine. Rent is fair and it is a clean place.”

“Ye are a landlord?” she asked surprised.

“It is not mine. One of my friends used to live there.”

“Used?”

“He is no more.”

“Sorry, Monsieur.”

“I’ll give you the address,” he promised with his emotionless face.

 

It was strange to remember such night. Enjolras could not possible let go of that memory. Eponine unintentionally found her way into his mind. There she remained his greatest distraction. He could not stop think of her. How easily he has fallen for her. Silently he was aching for her presence.

He met her on few occasions. One of them was when he wanted to make sure they've found suited longings. They had a roof and a fireplace. It was a warm and dry place for which they were glad. He did not mention his name or did not want to make his presence obvious. It was only when he was leaving Eponine recognized him. She ran to him and with smile she greeted him. Winter was almost over and a spring was ahead. She walked him out of the building. They were talking. He discovered her own father was fighting by side of Napoleon in the battle of Waterloo and he shared with her his own ideas about the great Republic. He was surprised that she actually understood about what he was talking. Those were the pleasant days. Moments that he cherished and kept locked in his soul.

One day Courfreyrac brought a new face among his friends at Café ABC. His name was Marius and he was another student who was living without his family support. He was in mourning for his father, wearing only black colours. But he was appealing and though they did not share the same political ideas they could get along. Struggling with his finances he was forced to found a cheaper apartment. All that Enjolras knew thanks to Courfreyfac who was trying to help Marius.

“And where our new friend found himself a new home?” he asked one night when they were sitting around tables at the back room in Café ABC. It was right after their last meeting and there was a friendly atmosphere. It was a pleasant evening. Grantaire was singing at the back table with some other friends. And Enjolras saw Eponine the other day. She looked happier for some reason. That pleased him although he longed to know what cheered her up. If he knew, maybe he could arrange something similar and make her happy once more.

“Oh the address!” sighed Courfeyrac. It took him moment before he named the street. Enjolras winked in surprise.

“I have friends at that address,” he smiled a little. So, Marius became a neighbour of Eponine – he thought to himself. “I might pay him a visit than.”

“Oh I pray you do! Last days he scarcely goes outside.”

The next day Enjolras went there. His visit to Marius was just an excuse to meet Eponine. He walked up to stairs and at the small hallway he saw Marius who was just parting. Next to him Eponine was standing. And her look broke Enjolras heart.

“Oh, Enjolras! What an unfortunate hour you picked! I must be on my way!” Marius exclaimed upon seeing Enjolras steer face.

“How unfortunate in deed,” he mumbled in response, eyes fixed on Eponine who barely noticed him.

“Could we meet another time, perhaps?” Marius was standing next to him and heading down stairs.

“Come tonight to Café ABC, than,” Enjolras invited him. Marius looked excited but Enjolras doubted it was because of his invitation.

“Gladly.”

And then he was gone.

“Monsieur Enjolras, I did not know ye are a friend of M. Marius,” finally she noticed him.

“I know of him,” he answered barely looking at her.

“Is something wrong?” she knew something was different. He looked at her, his chin clutched and his eyes shined.

“No. Are you well, Eponine?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, M. Enjolras. Still trying to figure how to repay ye though,” she smiled again.

“It is well. You've done enough, Eponine,” he smiled at her.

“Me? Hardly, Monsieur!”

“You've been a good friend, Eponine,” he enjoyed the sound of her name for he knew those were their last moments.

“Monsieur,” she blushed a little, “do ye think M. Marius would enjoy my company as you did?”

“If he is not a fool.”

“Monsieur!” she laughed. “He is kind and good,” she looked down the stairs where Marius disappeared.

“I wish you a good luck,” he looked in her eyes. His voice was warm and honest and Eponine smiled happily.

That was his good bye. For another year he did not meet her. Nor he tried to seek her out. He did not return to that address. For days he appeared like a shadow to his friends. Nobody knew what was wrong with him. He read a lot those days. He listened to speeches of politicians; he put his mind to more pressing problems than what his heart was aching for.

 

In some time he became passionate again, even fiercer full. He talked about revolution, about freedom and republic. Once again he spoke of the equality and of France. His change was welcome by the most and Grantaire who was becoming slightly bored because he has no interest of politics whatsoever started to come to Cafeé ABS more often. Although he was a sceptic and did not believe in Republic, nor in Revolution, he was closely listening to Enjolras arguments, to his speeches and monologue. It appeared that Grantaire was after all cable of faith. But his faith was not put in some ideas or some higher power but in the man himself. Enjolras was everything that Grantaire wasn't. His passion and strong believes in the better future was some of fascination for Grantaire.

To this company Marius joined. Quickly he was caught in storm of arguments and ideas with which he started to agree. It has come to the point when their fight for better future, for better France, had to be taken to public. They rally the people before house of general Lamarque. There they talked to people. There they encouraged them and promised them a better future.

There he saw Eponine once again. She was standing among the people and with admiration she looked up to Marius who was talking to people. Anybody else would not even notice her; she was rugged as other beggars, her brows unattended and her skin even dirtier than he remembered. For some unknown reason to him she was even more beautiful than ever. Maybe it was because she has finally grown. She was no longer a girl, but a woman.

There he was meeting her regularly. She followed Marius wherever he went, although she never sat with them at Cafeé ABC.

The breaking point for revolution has come closer when they discovered that general Lamarque was sick. Doctors gave him no more than a week. Enjolras knew that their hour is coming. They did all they could to prepare for this and still there were much more to be planned. The National Guard disrupted them in the afternoon before Lamarque’s house and that evening they have all met at the Café ABC. Marius was late again.

Enjolras with Courfeyrac and Combeferre were leaning over the map of Paris while others were gathering their guns. Grantaire was busy with his wine that he gladly shared with others. When Marius came his enthusiasm that all of them saw at the rally before Lamarque’s house was gone. It must have been Grantaire who asked him what has happened. Marius seemed to be distracted by a girl he met. He spoke of love. Enjolras who paid a little attention to what he was saying raised his head. He looked at Marius who spoke of girl he met that day and whom he even didn't know.

Wasn't he supposed to be in love with another creature? Enjolras frowned.

Others were teasing him and Marius blushed and smiled with them. This was not a place for boys in love. Women were just a distraction from their goal. Weren't they supposed to know that?

“Do you know for what we fight today? Did you ask yourself what is the price you might pay?” he sat to a table with Marius. “The world is changing now!”

He rose up again prepared to return to the map when Marius jumped from his chair.

“You wouldn't act differently if you have seen her today, Enjolras! Haven’t you ever been in love?!” he blurted out. Enjolras snorted. “You must know how life can be different with someone you love!” Marius gripped his arm. Enjolras looked at him with ice in his eyes. “How empty the world looks when she is not there!”

Enjolras lost his patience. Of course he knew all of those emotions! He knew how Marius felt but this was not a time or place for that.

“Marius!” he snapped. “You are no longer a child! There are more important matters at hand! What is France compered to your soul? We are not fighting just for us but for the generations to come!”

“I know.”

They little argument was interrupted by a little boy named Gavroche who brought some news.

“General Lamarque is dead!”

Students stood in astonishment all of them apart one.

“The hour is here,” Enjolras spoke. Students turned to him. “Lemarque was people’s man and at his funeral our revolution will begin!”

They cheered. The time for waiting was long gone. Now the future was coming and they embraced themselves for it.

Marius spotted somebody at stairs and ran to that person. All of students returned to their work, everyone too occupied with preparation they hardly noticed he was gone. Enjolras saw him leave. He looked to the stairs where he saw Eponine. For a moment his hearth ached for her.

“Did you find her?” Marius asked her. Enjolras was watching Eponine with a deep sorrow. He would give anything to spare her the pain he himself endure when he lost her. But it was too late. She was different from him. She could not help herself. She needed to be near her love, to be close and to help him, even when his heart has already belonged to another.

For a moment Enjolras thought if he made a mistake. If he should have fought for her affection. He dismissed the thought. France was his mistress now and Eponine was never his to be loved.

Eponine left without raising her head. It was better – he did not want to meet her eyes. Marius looked at him, maybe for approval to leave. Enjolras slightly nodded with a deep sigh. Marius was torn between the duty for his friends and France, and the calling of his heart. This little adventure of his could help him decide where he should stand.

 

Later that night he saw her outside Café ABC. Others were cleaning guns, making bullets and printing their leaflets of revolution. People were assembling. And he saw her in the crowd. She had cried. He knew he should not care. There was no stopping him. Slowly he came downstairs. He greeted with the people. Talked with them, cheer them up for the coming dawn and their mission. Then he went to her. She was standing aside the crowd in the dark street. She was barefoot, holding her arms around her thin waist.

“Monsieur Enjolras,” she greeted him with a weak smile. “We have not spoken for a long time.”

“I had more pressing matters to attend to,” it sounded like a petty excuse.

“Yer glorious revolution.”

“It’s not mine.”

“Again the saviour of people,” she teased him like in the old days. But he has changed. He was not the same man. He did not smile with her. His face remained without any emotion.

“Are you well?” he asked her. She nodded, her eyes fixed on the ground. “I have seen you with Marius, few hours ago,” he continued. “Will he return?”

“I don’t know,” she shivered. “Might not,” she looked to him. She had tears in her eyes. Marius has never deserved her love. Enjolras reached to his pocket. There he found a silver coin he was carrying with him ever since he met her.

He took her hand and put a coin into her palm. She looked puzzled.

“What it is?” she exclaimed.

“Means for you to choose your path. Without your father, without Marius.”

“The silver coin,” she recognized it. “I thought about it a lot. I thought I should have taken it after all. I was wandering what ye have done with it.”

“I was keeping it for you.”

“Ye were always nice to me, Monsieur. Why?”

He smiled a little for the first in a long time.

“Paris is not going to be safe place tomorrow. Find yourself a good shelter, Eponine, or leave for countryside. When it’s all done, live freely in the new France.”

“What about ye, M. Enjolras?”

He looked around himself.

“They are battles yet to be won before we reach our goal.”

He left her, hoping that the silver coin, his little lucky charm, will bring her a good life.

 

Barricades have risen in the Paris. Marius stood by their side. France was revolting! The revolution will bring them better future! The dream of freedom and republic where everybody is equal was at the grasp!

Enjolras knew the darkest hour has to yet come. They will have to fight but there was no doubt that people will join them, that they will come, when they’ll call. Some of citizens already joined them. They build the barricade. Even Grantaire tried to sober up and helped them. Now they were waiting for their own spy to return.

Gavroche recognized the spy as Captain Javert and the National Guard attacked the barricade. They were nearly destroyed. Marius gripped a barrel of gunpowder and with a ignited torch he ran to the barricade threatening to blow it away. Enjolras calmly came to him. Soldiers pulled off. Enjolras reached for the torch and without a word he removed it from Marius. He knew how broken-hearted man could be dangerous. Others were yelling at Marius. He did not recognize who praised him and who cursed him for his action.

Suddenly Marius noticed a man lying at the barricade. It was not a man but a girl dressed like a man. Enjolras recognized her. It slowly started to rain.

Eponine laid there, heavily bleeding. Her gaze was fixed on Marius. Her eyes full of loyalty and admiration. Did she know she was dying? Did she even care?

Marius ran to her. He held her in his arms. She gave him a letter she should have delivered earlier. Enjolras had to smile for himself. Her deliveries! It appeared she would be the worst delivery man.

She was dying. Enjolras watched her death and her last words were for Marius. He kissed her on the forehead. He was kind to her in the end. She was pleased. Somebody could say that she died happily finally knowing how it felt to be loved in return. Maybe that was the worst to watch for Enjolras because he knew that Marius didn't do it for the affection he had but because he had only a pity for her.

She didn't deserve your pity. She was created for admiration and for care. Not for this sorry excuse of life - he thought to himself.

Gavroche was crying. Enjolras felt a tear on his cheek. He nodded to Combeferre and together they removed Eponine’s body although he could not hold her. He could not touch her body without losing his control. He let Combeferre to take her away.

 

Later that night when the watch was decided, Enjolras walked into tavern. He heard others sing. Some of them were drinking. It was their last night. He knew that. His back leaned against the wall.

She smiled at the end. She even laughed. It was a typical for her. Will he be that strong and die with a smile? Will his determination stand? This was his moment alone when he could freely mourn his Eponine. He mourned her before when he discovered he lost her to Marius. But there was still a little hope that she could be happy. Now she was gone. He could no longer imagine her living her happy life in the new Republic. Both his dreams were slowly colliding. Not to get caught again in stream of those emotions he went on. He had to go and see what was left of other barricades. Which were still standing and which were destroyed. He left the Café ABC to gain intelligence.

 

In his last moment he was strong as he hoped he would. Grantaire was there with him. He sobered up and came to him. Soldiers were standing before them. They guns pointed at them. Grantaire declared republic. He stood with him, took his hand. Enjolras smiled, just like Eponine did before she died. He raised his hand with their red revolutionary flag. Soldiers fired. The bullets pierced him. He failed back from broken window. His hand still wrapped in cloth of the same colour as was his blood. Beneath him, down in tavern laid her body, next to Gavroche’s, among the corpses of his friends and fellow revolutionaries.


End file.
